


Missteps

by james



Category: Leverage
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is a journey of individual steps.  Nate has made several, not always in the direction he intended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missteps

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2011 Leverage Gift Exchange.

Nate was distracted, to say the least, on the trip back to Boston. Waking up to find Sophie in his bed was...different. Unexpected. He couldn't decide if it was a _complete_ surprise or if it was something he should have expected. He found himself vacillating between a feeling of shock that he had actually slept with her, and a feeling of satisfaction that he had finally slept with her. It was confusing, to say the least, that he couldn't seem to make up his mind if he was happy about events or just very confused.

It didn't help that Sophie was giving him no clues how she felt about it, either. She didn't seem to be pretending nothing had happened, but neither was she acting like they'd begun a relationship they'd been dancing around for years. Nate knew that if it was what she wanted, he'd be perfectly happy to pretend it never happened -- to a point, because he also thought that he ought to be _happy_ about it and, therefore, want to do it again. But he was smart enough to know that he risked insulting her and driving her away again if he didn't give her what she wanted.

On the other hand, trying to figure out what she wanted by just observing her only made him remember just how good she was at grifting: being someone she wanted others to think she was and keeping anything real hidden away. It was making his head hurt, and it didn't help his growing sense of dissatisfaction with the entire affair that he couldn't even decide what he wanted, much less what Sophie did.

So Nate spent the several days sitting in his apartment with a glass in his hand, trying to decide what to do. He never got any answers, but dwelling on it kept him distracted long enough that it took Parker landing in front of him on the sidewalk to knock him out of it. From where, exactly, he didn't want to look up and find out, because he'd been walking along with a cup of coffee in his hand and he really didn't think there was anything overhead except the roof of a building ten stories above them.

Better not to think about it. He did stop in his tracks, keeping his coffee balanced with the ease of experience and simply said, "Hello, Parker."

She frowned at him, genuinely not happy about something, and, he could tell, at a loss as to what to do about it. Well, except for one clear plan of attack: make _him_ take care of it. What she said, though, surprised him. "Eliot's not right." She frowned harder, tilting her head like she did when she was running words through her head to make sure they were the right ones. But then she merely pursed her lips and nodded to herself, content with her original declaration.

Nate took a sip of his coffee and made a mental note to ask for the cell phone that Parker had just stolen from his jacket pocket. "Eliot would say the same about you," he pointed out.

Clearly relieved, Parker nodded again as though Nate had just agreed with her point. "So you'll take care of it?" she asked.

Nate opened his mouth to say any of a half-dozen things ranging from asking her what she meant by 'not right' and asking her why she'd come to him about it, and why he ought to be the one to fix anything. Instead he just said, "I'll talk to him."

She grinned and made an abortive movement towards him. Nate didn't know if she thought she needed to hug him, or wanted to return his phone, or was trying to steal the wallet from the guy who'd just brushed past them. Nate just reached over and took his phone from her back pocket, giving her a smile to let her know she didn't have to try to apologize, then took another sip of his coffee. Parker held out his wallet and Nate blinked, then reached back and felt his pocket. Yes, that was his wallet in her hand.

He sighed. "The phone was a distraction, wasn't it?"

Parker just laughed. Then she turned around and walked over to the awning jutting out from the used music shop. She leapt up and swung herself onto the second story window sill, and Nate just watched her, telling himself that he didn't really need to watch to make sure she didn't slip and fall.

Then he started walking -- stopping a few steps later to pat down each of his pockets. Everything felt as though it was where it belonged, so he continued on his way.

~~~

Nate didn't manage to see Eliot that day or the next, expecting that Eliot himself would show up at the bar just to check in. When Eliot didn't make an appearance, Nate realised he was going to have to go find him. Of course, he also knew he could not bother and simply tell Parker that everything was fine and she didn't need to be concerned, but he had to admit to some growing curiosity as to why she'd said Eliot wasn't right.

Once he started wondering, he began to worry. What could Eliot have done to make Parker, of all people, think there was something wrong?

Nate told himself it was probably something completely ordinary and innocent and Eliot would tell him to piss off. If he did, Nate would let him take it on himself to explain to Parker to mind her own business. On the other hand, Nate knew, it was entirely possible that there _was_ something wrong and Nate was only letting it get worse.

He forced himself not to rush over right away, more concerned that Eliot would be fine and just throw him out. But the more he delayed, trying to act casual about the whole mess, the more he started thinking about all the ways in which Eliot could be very much not all right.

They hadn't talked about what Eliot had done. He'd promised not to tell the others about it and he'd assumed that would mean he and Eliot wouldn't discuss it either. Eliot wasn't the sort to talk about himself at all; it always surprised Nate when Eliot casually dropped some tidbit of his life into a conversation, making Nate feel as though reality had slid sideways for a moment as he tried to process such casually dropped things as _Eliot has a nephew_ or _Eliot hates green beans._

But this -- Eliot using guns to kill so many men to ensure that his team would survive -- was exactly the sort of thing Eliot would probably never talk about. But Nate didn't pretend that it wouldn't affect him and, despite the fact Parker shouldn't know anything about what had happened, it was reasonable to think she could have noticed that something was bothering him.

Nate continued arguing with himself about how frantically he should be going to check up on Eliot even as he knocked on Eliot's door. He waited patiently, knowing Eliot would probably already know it was him, and he counted to five before wondering if Eliot was telling him to go the fuck away and leave him alone.

When he reached seven the door opened and Eliot peered out at him, scowling as he saw Nate.

Nate frowned. "You look like hell. No wonder Parker was worried."

One eyebrow went up. "Parker was worried?" He seemed half-asleep, not quite leaning against the door, but his eyes weren't fully open and there was a mark on his cheek like the wrinkle of a pillowcase had been pressed against the spot for some time.

"She was. She said you were 'not right.' Goodness only knows what she meant by that, but I figured I'd come by and see for myself." Nate realised he'd started to reach out to touch the other man and forced his hand back down. He didn't think Eliot would take kindly to being touched -- Nate couldn't recall the last time he'd tried to touch the other man, but he had a vague sense that it wouldn't be welcomed.

His thoughts spun away, trying to dredge up the memory of the last time he had touched Eliot. It seemed like it hadn't been so long, but his memories were fuzzy and it felt suddenly like it had been a very long time. It didn't make any sense that the realisation made him just want to reach out even more.

Eliot was scowling at him harder. "So tell her I'm fine." He was making no move to chase Nate out, nor was he stepping back to let him inside.

On impulse, Nate took a step forward. Eliot held his ground, then, when Nate took another step, almost within Eliot's personal space, he growled and jerked back.

" _Are_ you all right?" Nate asked, carefully. He didn't expect Eliot to tell him if he wasn't, but Nate knew the other man pretty well and felt confident he could read something in whatever answer he gave.

He watched the way Eliot didn't try to meet his eyes, and the way his entire body was slumped in exhaustion. Nate started in recognition; Eliot almost never let that show, no matter how tired or injured he was. Nate started to reach out again, stopped himself, then clenched his fist against the irritating uncertainty of whether or not he ought to touch Eliot.

He'd never worried about it before. Of course, he knew when he was drunk he touched everybody and didn't think twice. When he was sober, he didn't tend to touch anyone. Now -- he had no idea what to do, and he didn't think he'd ever felt quite so off-balance like this before with Eliot.

"Are you all right?" he asked again, when he noticed that Eliot hadn't bothered answering his question.

"I'm fine," Eliot spat out, stepping backwards out of Nate's reach.

"That sounds terribly convincing," Nate remarked. "I'm sure Parker will buy that."

"I'll handle Parker," Eliot said. "I'll tell her.... Hell, I won't tell her anything. Keep her distracted with something else and she'll forget all about it."

"Forget about what, exactly?" Nate asked, taking another half step forward, angling carefully away from Eliot's space, as if he wasn't trying to impede the man's freedom even as he moved closer. The way Eliot glared at him told Nate that the subtle move hadn't been subtle, at all. It didn't matter, though, because Nate was inside Eliot's place, and as long as Eliot didn't physically throw him out, Nate wasn't leaving until.... Until he knew something. Knew what, he didn't have any idea. But he couldn't turn around and leave.

"You're the one she told," Eliot snapped again, anger flashing briefly before exhaustion seeped back in. "I don't know why she thinks--"

"Eliot."

"Get off it, Nate," Eliot said. "We both know what happened and neither of us is gonna pretend it doesn't mean anything. The least you could do is give me some space to deal with it my own way."

Slowly, Nate nodded. "I'm not asking you...for anything, you know. I just...." He trailed off, because he suddenly didn't know exactly what he wanted. Other than to pull Eliot closer and tell him it didn't matter, that everything was going to be all right. The urge startled him and he forced his fingers still, even as he wanted to stretch them out to take hold of Eliot's arm.

"Well, now you can tell her, honestly, that you checked up on me." Eliot nodded, anger gone as he guessed at Nate's reasons for showing up.

But Nate shook his head. "I wanted to make sure you were all right." He held up his hand. "I don't mean that you're ignoring what happened. Or... unless that's how you're dealing with it. Or something. I just...." He realised he was starting to babble and made himself shut up.

Eliot was looking at him curiously now. But he remained silent, waiting for Nate to continue. His body language had changed, Nate saw, more relaxed and balanced, no longer inching back every time Nate swayed forward. Nate was tempted to move forward again, but he didn't want to spook someone who could easily kill him with the entry rug he was standing on. He swallowed, trying not to think about why his hand was twitching again to reach out and touch Eliot.

Eliot was starting to scowl at him again, but without his earlier anger. It made his expression seemed more confused than anything. He tilted his head to one side until his head was nearly resting against the wall. "What do you want?" he asked, half-growling in a thickened accent, as if he were too tired to speak without inflection.

"Why was she worried about you?" Nate didn't even know if Eliot knew what Parker had seen and wasn't sure if knowing would tell him anything. He just didn't want to turn and walk away with nothing more than Eliot's insistence that everything was fine and that he could deal with it on his own.

"How should I know?" Eliot demanded, but something in the flicker of his eyes told Nate he did. Rather, Eliot probably knew perfectly well everything that was wrong, but simply didn't know what Parker had seen and been alarmed by.

Nate held up a hand. "You don't have to tell me," he offered. "And I know if I offer to help...you're not any more likely to take it than I would be." He grinned, briefly, and was relieved to see the ghost of an answering smile on Eliot's face. "I'm here if you need anything, and if you want something, you can ask." Nate shrugged, because he didn't honestly think Eliot would actually ask for a thing.

But he couldn't leave, feet rooted in the spot and every time Nate thought that he should take Eliot's cue and leave, he couldn't. He felt himself reaching out again and this time he let himself, let the impulse pull his hand forward until it rested on Eliot's face. It shocked them both, he knew, but he made himself stop thinking and let his hand do what it would, and apparently what it wanted was to caress Eliot's face tenderly.

Nate could see that Eliot saw the surprise on Nate's own face, even as it was mirrored on his own. "I'm sorry," Nate said, though he couldn't be certain which he was apologizing for.

"Sorry for what?" Eliot asked, and Nate realised that he wasn't pulling away. "I'm not blind, Nate, and I'm not stupid. I'm tired because I haven't been sleeping well, and I might have yelled at Parker a bit when she came by. That's all. You don't need to do whatever it is you think you're doing." There was a bitter note in his voice, that caught Nate's attention. He held it to one side, more concerned with what the hell he was doing to figure out just yet what Eliot thought about it all.

"I don't exactly know what I'm doing," Nate admitted. He had no idea -- even as he left his hand on Eliot's face, and his fingers were gently pressed against his cheek. He'd never...wanted this, never thought about Eliot anything more than someone to chase, someone to trust, someone to keep under control long enough to focus his rage in all the right directions.

He'd sworn for years Eliot wasn't a friend, not even when he'd looked back to see that Eliot had thought of him as one. This.... This was blindsiding him, and the urge to lean forward and kiss Eliot made Nate wonder if someone had slipped something into his coffee that morning without his tasting it.

Even drunk he'd never done more than admire Eliot's beauty, watch the way he moved and how his smile light up a room. But he'd never wanted to do this, never wanted to pull him in and touch him and--- He'd spent so many years chasing after them all but he'd only ever let himself tease and flirt with Sophie, knowing in the back of his heart that he would never cheat on Maggie and, as Sophie had said, it made her safe.

He'd never thought so much about Eliot, and he didn't know if it hadn't been there to see or if he'd blinded himself deliberately, because the temptation would have been so much worse, coupled with everything he'd been raised to believe would drive him straight to Hell.

He'd done so much worse since his childhood, Nate knew, and his morality had slipped away inch by inch until he didn't know if he had any of it left. He was a thief, a conman, and drunk, and, apparently, he was this. There was no shock or surprise, and no lingering doubts like the ones he'd felt when he'd woken up with Sophie in his bed.

Nate stepped closer and titled his head, and for a split second he felt Eliot tense and he knew he'd made a mistake. But then he felt Eliot's lips on his own, and Eliot was moving towards him, finally, pressing against him instead of inching away, and Eliot was kissing him back. Eliot was kissing him hard, now, and there was a frantic note growing in it, Eliot's fingers grabbing at Nate's jacket and one part of Nate's mind wanted to ask if his cell phone and wallet were safe. All he did was tug Eliot closer, letting his body lean back a bit to avoid pressing the attack and triggering Eliot's reflexes.

Then he broke the kiss and Eliot looked at him with dark, shuttered eyes as he backed away, a mask dropping into place that Nate hadn't seen directed at himself in a long, long time. "I thought you were sleeping with Sophie," Eliot said quietly, tone clipped and tight, all trace of his accent gone.

Nate shook his head. "Not anymore." Something settled inside him, very much like the moment he'd claimed the title of thief, accepting who he was and embracing it. This...he honestly didn't know if he'd had any idea, or if he'd been so successful at shoving it away that he'd never consciously known until now.

He wanted to explain to Eliot that it had only been once, tell him that it didn't matter because he'd been drunk. He'd been half in love with Sophie for a very long time because it had always been safe, unattainable, and he'd grown into the habit of thinking that if he ever had the chance, he would sleep with her. He didn't try to say he had no idea why he was doing this now, or that it might turn out to mean nothing -- or everything. But he didn't.

He just pulled Eliot towards him again, slowly and carefully, knowing Eliot could break free if he wanted and letting the other man know that it was all right if he did. After a hesitation, Eliot allowed himself to be tugged close, and Nate put his arms around him.

Nate tucked his head down, kissing Eliot on the side of his head, and felt him slowly begin to relax until, finally, Nate just whispered, "Let's go to bed."

Eliot took his hand and led him down the hallway, and as Nate followed, he realised he knew exactly what he wanted.

the end


End file.
